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Избранные стихотворения
Афанасия Фета
На английском языке
(перевод Алика Вагапова)
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Four lines in my heart are ready all right: Blessed Holy Virgin, mother of grief, Your grace penetrated my soul, I perceive. I said all these lines in a whisper all right * Hail, Mary! (Latin)-Ed. <1842> |
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Afanasy Fet On the Cover of Tutchev's Book of Poems Translated by Alec Vagapov |
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The poet hands it in to us; It has the dominance of spirit A laurel will not grow on ice, |
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Was there a winner at that, and who won the scene, And we'll be together, can't be drawn apart! |
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To distant cemetery, my last abode. |
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All these chats only make me feel weary and yawn... |
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That's how against the purple poppy The series of motley visions And undetermined human faces Look from the ashes, cold as ice. |
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I have come to greet you, dear, That its light began to quiver With its its branches all aroused, That my soul will serve with fervour But the song of joy is brewing. 1843 |
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But it's so flaming, sacred and so dear, |
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Beaming with nudity till waist, Her body blooms divine and heavenly With everlastng charm and chaste. Under this canopy of hair, That's how afire with passion now Enveloped in the drift of sea And with an air of triamph and power |
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And all that's enveloped with their Never know either joy or rest, |
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Новые книги авторов СИ, вышедшие из печати:
О.Болдырева "Крадуш. Чужие души"
М.Николаев "Вторжение на Землю"